Labels: I laughed because I can.
posted by fatmammycat at 10:11 AM
I'm a bouncy, opinionated, messy haired marathon running (!) bibliophile. I wear high heels and have delightful ankles. I'm a devoted drinker. I want a French Bulldog puppy whom I shall call Batman and dress in capes on occasion. I would also like a pug, whom I shall name Mister Woo. He can remain capeless, but I will make sure he wears a diamante collar at all times. Both dogs will submit to repeated snorgling and high pitched squeals that only a dolphin would normally tolerate. I hate Reiki/psychics/mystics/frauds with all my liver. Also, I'm firmly against Jazz and poetry/poems/pomes/ peoms or any of that stuff. I believe in the healing power of ginger.
18 Comments:
But he's doing p o e m e t r y and no, tis true, my ears do not deceive me, that is j a z z, n o o d l i n g away in the background.
I know I know, but ginger you see. Over riding all the other stuff.
Hmm, what about a gingerlicious reiki practitioner... how conflicted would you be?
Pretty bloody conflicted, I'd have to say, but no true ginger would dabble in that filth.
how does Mick Hucknall fit into this?
He doesn't, you take that back. Hucky could never woo a gal like this fellow can. (Although I admit I had a filty dream about him during his 'Money too tight to mention' phase. Fortunately I grew out of that come Fairground.)
I don't mind the "spoken word" scene on occasion, but the jazz put me off entirely. He may be ginger, but he's no Alan Ginsburg beatnik.
I admit I had issues, sorry ish-ues* with it, but I am swallowed my bile and concentrated on his gingerness and message.
* a pox on you Claire Byrne!
But what of the durty dreads FMC - surely their matted filth would distract from the ginger gloryness?
It's great! And I know just the person I'm going to forward it to. I won't be thanked for it, mind you.
It's also why parties are better than dinner parties. The ability to run away at a dinner party is just not there.
never heard of Tim Minchin neever. Gonna go see more.
Cheers, dollink!
Gonna have to forward this to my 'reiki-certified' sister.
We have the SAME parents. I do not understand...
He's a calming balm in a sea of fiery wotsits is he not.
If I can over look the jazz Sheepie, the dreads are nawtin.
So, who's his missus and could you fix her up with the Paramour? Hypothetically, like.
Sheee-eet, anything's possible. Course he'd have to quit the jazz hands it if was more than nine minutes. And the dreads.
And I'm pretty sure the paramour would be bereft without someone singing falsetto and dancing a stuffed pig across his chest of a satdee morning. Pretty sure.
A stuffed pig, singing, "This likkle piggins wenk all de way home"?
Rrrracy!
No no! singing, 'I've got something in my front pocket for you, why you don't put your hand in say how do you do, give it a likkle squeeze'n say how 'bout you, something in your front pocket, SOMETHING IN your FRONT pocket, something in your front pocket for yo-uuuuuuu!"
Seriously, google southpark. Yes, it is that lame.
I should point out that Piggy has little stuffed but flappy feet.*
* okay, I'll stop now.
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